


Another Taste of Pomegranate

by alienheartattack (Sanneke)



Series: Ballet AU [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, rivamika, seriously this shit is graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanneke/pseuds/alienheartattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi and Mikasa's performances are winding down. Something's gotta give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Taste of Pomegranate

**Author's Note:**

> This is the direct sequel to The Taste of Pomegranate, so you should read that before reading this fic.
> 
> Also, this is filthy. Just shamelessly filthy. Sorry not sorry.

Levi has always thought that Erwin’s standard two weeks of dress rehearsals was a smart idea. Now, the two weeks seems like an idea specifically designed to drive him to the brink of madness. He wants to get far, far away from Mikasa Ackerman. Or he wants to get very, very close to her; at this point, he can no longer tell. Either way, the last thing he wants to do is spend two more days cradling her in his arms before he spends a week doing the same thing in front of hundreds of people.

Early in his acquaintance with the young dancer, he once joked to Hanji that Mikasa would be the death of him. But when he’s sitting in his bed at three in the morning, cock painfully erect, trying to decide if he should Google “can sexual frustration kill you?”, he wonders whether she will actually have a hand in his demise. He knows it’s simply not possible for him to die from sheer wanting, but the part of his reptile brain that’s been screaming  _I really really really want to fuck Mikasa_ in a constant loop for the last three weeks also believes with absolute certainty that he will cease to exist if he doesn’t at least try to sleep with her.

He estimates he has at least a seventy-five percent chance of success. Levi is well aware of the effect he has on women, how he initially repels them with his cold brusqueness, but over time they learn to read his inscrutable moods, the subtle tones of his voice, to discern his annoyed glare from his heavy-lidded look of desire.

Of course, removing his shirt has never hurt his chances, and Mikasa hasn’t seen him clothed from the waist up in at least a week.

His mind feels like it’s being pulled in a thousand different directions. He wants to fuck her now ‒ no, _yesterday_. He wants to wait until the performances are over, not wanting to risk destroying the perfectly balanced tension of their dance. He wants to run away screaming from Mikasa Ackerman, because outside of their performances he has barely touched her and yet he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to rip off her flimsy costume instead of smearing it with pomegranate juice. 

Erwin has had only the most minor critiques for them, but three times so far he has made them repeat their piece just to see if they could recreate their taut intensity on command. They can, Levi suspects, because the dance is no longer a performance. When he reaches for her, it is because he needs to feel her pressed against him. When she finally submits to him, she does so of her own free will even when he has her trapped in his arms. When she takes his fingers in her mouth, he imagines her lips are wrapped around his cock instead. When she looks up at him, an impudent smirk on her face, he wonders whether she’ll look up at him like that as he drives deeply into her over and over again.

It is hard to resist her, knowing that her mouth will be so sticky-sweet against his own.

But he endures. He manages to finish rehearsals without breathing a word of his desire for her. He keeps telling himself that he is a professional, that this is not the first time that he has felt attracted to his dance partner. Then he thinks about the way the curve of her shoulder peeked out of her shirt the morning they ate the pomegranate together, the way the early morning sunlight illuminated her pale skin, how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into her, an urge so powerful his jaw clenched in anticipation. How he still thinks about biting her there, what her skin will taste like, whether she will sigh or whimper or cry out…

After this, his rational mind always falls silent.

The performances begin and Erwin’s show gets rave reviews, with special attention paid to their piece. Mikasa collects the press clippings and pastes them in a scrapbook, gleefully recounting to Levi each time they are referred to as “Mr. and Ms. Ackerman (no relation).“ Each night at curtain call, the audience stands and cheers when Levi and Mikasa, still in their costumes, still covered in makeup and pomegranate juice, bow to the audience, then to each other. Afterward they scurry off to the backstage area, where she brandishes a packet of makeup remover cloths and offers to wipe down his back. He always declines.

For their last show they dance to a packed house, their bodies straining toward each other more than ever. There is an immediacy, a desperation to their movements, their performance fueled by the knowledge (and its attendant wistfulness, felt acutely by Mikasa and reluctantly by Levi) that this is likely the last time they will dance as Persephone and Hades. Mikasa finds herself blinking back tears as she arches herself over Levi’s leg and eats the pomegranate arils from his fingers, feeling him crush the fruit against her and trail his hand down her body, bisecting her torso with a garnet stain. Tonight his hand goes further down, caressing the slight rise and fall of her belly, briefly skimming his reddened fingertips over the soft skin of her inner thigh. She wonders whether Levi can see that she’s blushing beneath the layers of shimmery makeup. 

As the last show concludes and Mikasa and Levi take their place among the other dancers, they join hands and step forward to a huge roar of applause and cheers. Someone in the audience whistles. One of the assembled dancers hands Levi a bouquet of flowers that he has purchased, which he passes to Mikasa. She doesn’t notice at first, too busy grinning at the clapping crowd and waving giddily at the audience members she recognizes, so he ends up practically shoving the blooms in her face, suddenly reducing her field of vision to two dozen red roses. (He is usually not picky about what he gives to each of his dance partners, simply going to Erwin’s preferred florist and ordering a moderately expensive assortment, but this time feels different somehow. She deserves flowers as red as the pomegranate that stains her skin, as red as the blood that rushes wildly through his veins when he has her in his arms.) Mikasa looks up at him, tears forming in her eyes once more, as she gathers the bouquet in her arms. Levi bows to her, bending at the waist and sweeping out his arms, ceding the spotlight to her alone. The applause soars.

When he rises, Mikasa cradles the flowers in one arm and uses the other to hug him tightly, rubbing her hand against the corded muscles of his back. Levi loops one arm around her waist as she kisses him lightly, brushing her lips against his black-smudged cheekbone.

"Thank you," she whispers in his ear. "For everything. I couldn’t have done this without you." 

"Obviously," he replies. "It was a pas de deux." Mikasa pulls away to see Levi smirking at her. She shakes her head, smiling despite his snide remark, and slaps him lightly on the shoulder. They rejoin the onstage crowd and allow the next performers to have their moment in the spotlight. There is an audible dip in the applause when they retreat and allow the next set of dancers to stand front and center.

***

Back in the communal dressing room, Levi is nowhere to be found. Anxiety gnaws at Mikasa’s stomach when she wonders whether she will even see him tonight. If that happens, all of her plans will be dashed. For two weeks now she has been trying to figure out what to do about Levi, aside from burning through the batteries in her vibrator each night after she gets home, imagining that after smearing the pomegranate on her skin he takes her backstage to remove every trace of it with his lips and tongue. She has decided that she will simply ask him for drinks after their last performance, which she can’t do if he has decided to disappear without at least saying goodbye.

Mikasa is not sure whether Levi would sneak off or not. She knows he wants her; when she hugged him onstage, she felt a bulge in his pants that was most definitely not from his dance belt. For the past few weeks she has felt the burn of his stare against her ass when she stretches in front of him during their warm-ups. But Levi is a wild card, although his attraction to her seems like a fact of nature: the sun rising each morning, the inexorable pull of gravity, Levi’s inevitable hardness when Mikasa is in his arms. Despite his obvious arousal, he is in control of himself, and so she thinks he may be able to survive an innocent drink with her (which is what she will claim it is, if asked) without dragging her by the hand into the bathroom and fucking her up against a wall, roughly thrusting into her, his hands gripping her hips until she is speckled with bruises shaped like his fingertips.

Pity, that. She’d love for him to try it.

Mikasa reminds herself that she has Levi’s phone number, that she can just ask him out any other time she wants, but at least if she asks tonight she can pretend it is a celebratory drink and not an I-am-desperately-trying-to-fuck-you drink if he isn’t receptive to her advances. But a part of her is sure he’ll acquiesce, even if he would rather keep his erections strictly professional. After a week of successful performances she feels invincible, all-powerful. That part of her believes Levi will say yes simply because no one can say no to Mikasa Ackerman tonight.

She just has to find him first. Her nerves thrum with anticipation, making her feel tense and irritable. Mikasa wants nothing more than to run through the cluster of dancers changing backstage to find Levi, probably wiping off his makeup in a relatively isolated corner. Instead she takes a series of deep breaths, changes into a sports bra and a pair of running shorts, and concentrates on removing the thin coating of grime from her body, telling herself she will look for him if he hasn’t turned up once she finishes. She inspects herself in one of the floor-length mirrors that line the backstage area, scrubbing at her skin with makeup remover wipes until she starts to feel at least somewhat clean. 

"You missed a spot," comes a familiar monotone from behind her as she is bent over, wiping shimmery residue from the tops of her feet.

Still bending over, she looks over her shoulder at Levi. He has removed most of his makeup, but a faint shadow remains around his eyes, making it seem as though his stare is boring into her. (Or, perhaps, he is simply attempting to stare through her minimal clothing.) He wears a similar outfit to the first time she saw him, a simple white t-shirt and black pants, and again she cannot help but notice the hard lines of his torso, the slim bulk of his muscles outlined by a thin layer of cotton. “Where?” she asks.

"Lower back," he replies hoarsely.

Mikasa chuckles and reaches one hand behind her to wipe off the missed makeup. “What are you doing after this?” she asks.

"Showering off this shit." Even without looking at him, she can see the disgusted look on his face. His top lip will stay lightly curled until he can scrub himself to his preferred level of obsessive cleanliness.

"You lead such a fascinating life," she teases him. "Come get a drink with me after I get dressed." She bends over to scrub a pearlescent smear from her shin, partially so she doesn’t have to meet Levi’s eyes and partially so he can get a good look at what her invitation implies. 

He spends a few moments considering her request (and, unbeknownst to her as she inspects her leg, adjusting his renewed erection so it’s not creating such an obvious tent in his pants) before he says, “Yeah, okay.”

They are in his car for ten minutes before Mikasa realizes they’re driving away from the downtown area. “Where are we going?” she asks, poking her head over the massive bouquet of flowers on her lap in order to get a better view through the windshield.

"To my place. I need to take a shower before I go anywhere. I won’t be long." Levi hopes he sounds a lot less nervous than he feels. Mikasa nods and they drive in silence to his apartment building, his hands gripping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. His building is all angular steel and glass, conspicuously new construction in an area full of stately brick homes.

"This place is really nice!" Mikasa exclaims after they get off the elevator at the top floor. 

"You haven’t even been inside yet," Levi points out, an amused smile playing across his lips. "But I can see how you’d think an elevator is the height of luxury." Mikasa rolls her eyes as Levi fishes a set of keys out of his bag and unlocks the door. "Take off your shoes," he instructs her.

"I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that," she mutters as she slips off her sneakers and picks them up with two fingers. Mikasa is utterly unsurprised to find that Levi has a neatly organized shoe rack right next to his front door.

As she steps into his apartment, her bare toes sink deep into the immaculate off-white carpet. Levi’s home is spacious, decorated sparsely in an ultramodern minimalist style. His furniture is all angles and clean lines, chrome and mahogany, stark black set against bright white. A picture window takes up the whole of one wall and provides a view of the downtown lights, miles away.

"Holy shit," Mikasa gasps, walking over to the window, reaching out to touch the glass.

Levi runs over to her and grasps her hand before she can press it against the window. “Don’t.” He cringes internally as he hears the the single word come out curtly than he intended.  She turns around and looks at him with widened eyes and parted lips, staring at him as though his touch is burning her. He feels it too, a warmth spreading from her hand into his, flowing up his arm and down into his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach and lower still. “Don’t want to get fingerprints on there,” he finally murmurs, letting go of her. 

"Sorry," she says softly, her eyes downcast. For the first time since he’s met her, Mikasa actually sounds apologetic.

"Here, give me the flowers. I’ll put them in water for you." She passes him the bouquet and he takes it into the kitchen. Mikasa follows him in, watching the methodical way he works, snipping the stems at an angle, arranging the flowers in a vase that he retrieves from above his refrigerator. She wonders if he is this controlled when he has a woman in his arms.

Mikasa leans her back against the entryway to the kitchen, crossing her arms over her chest. “What should I do with them when I go?” she asks.

 _Don’t go,_  his brain reflexively thinks. “Uh, take the vase with you,” Levi replies matter-of-factly, cocking one eyebrow at her. “They’re your flowers.”

"Oh. I guess for some reason I thought I’d have to take home a bouquet of wet flowers." Mikasa snickers. "Duh." She walks over to him, leaning down so she can smell the roses, closing her eyes as she inhales their heady aroma. She turns to him, her lips curved in a slight smile. "These are really nice, Levi. Thank you." From this close he can smell her, clean sweat and the sweet chemical perfume of makeup. His gaze flickers from her dark eyes to her mouth as she presses her teeth oh so gently against her bottom lip, gazing down expectantly at him.

"I’m gonna hop in the shower. I’ll be quick. Just hang out in the living room," Levi blurts. He walks back toward his bedroom, suddenly eager to create distance between the two of them. He wonders what the hell he is doing bringing her to his home, but deep down he knows exactly why she is here, exactly how this evening is going to end. For all his bluntness, Levi can’t bring himself to sit her down and explain that they are almost certainly going to fuck tonight, so they may as well get it over with. It seems too crass, even for him.

Anyway, this uncertain dance is too fun to give up just yet. He could end the whole charade in a minute by being honest with her about how he feels, but then he wouldn’t feel the strange tickle in his stomach when he thinks whether he will first kiss her at home, or in the back booth at his local bar, or beneath a streetlight as they stumble home in each other’s arms.

But before he can surrender himself to the permutations of how his lips will find hers, he needs a shower. He already feels jittery due to Mikasa invading his space even without taking into his account his infuriating lust and the fact that he wants to scrub his skin raw to remove every last trace of stage makeup. Levi retreats into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and pressing his back against it, barricading himself inside as though he has invited a pack of wolves into his home.

 _For fuck’s sake,_  he chastises himself,  _you’re acting like you’re afraid of a girl who’s got a picture of a cat eating a slice of pizza on her shirt._  Then he thinks about the sleep he has lost, the hours he has spent fantasizing about the configurations of their hands and mouths, the betrayal of his body whenever she gets too close to him.

He has been the aggressor in their dance, but it is she who has ensnared him. He has bent her to his will in a sense, made her a more focused and more disciplined dancer in his image, but he has started to crave her impertinence, her small acts of rebellion. Mikasa Ackerman is a strange thing, finding ways to act recklessly headstrong even when she is being supremely disciplined, seemingly delighting in defying and confounding him. Even when he should have the upper hand, he is constantly reacting to her, accommodating her, growing around her.

Levi believes in order and in balance, and so he intends to pay her in kind for what she has done to him. It is only fair, he believes, considering the way she has haunted him these past few weeks.

He locks his bedroom door and undresses, discomfited by the feeling of his clothes sliding off of his body and the cool air teasing his sensitized skin. He rubs his collarbone absently, wondering what her hands will feel like on his flesh as just Mikasa touching him, outside of her role as a professional, as an artist, as Penelope. The evening feels lush with possibility and he inhales sharply as images of the two of them flood his mind, a barrage of tangled limbs and mouths, their hands laying claim to each other’s bodies. He quickly wraps a towel around his waist and scurries off to the bathroom with a change of clothes, hoping Mikasa does not see him with only a piece of terry cloth covering him. He does not know what he will do if that should happen.

***

Mikasa hears the bathroom door click closed, then the rush of water as Levi turns on the shower. Her breath catches in her throat as she imagines him in there, hot water sluicing off his muscled body, his wet hair in his face, the smell of soap on his skin.

She has never felt this frustrated before. She was convinced Levi would kiss her in the kitchen, could see him calculating the right angle to tilt his head so as to avoid their noses colliding. Not that she would care if they did; she  _wants_  something awkward to happen, wants to see him caught off guard, defenses down, blushing and laughing through his embarrassment so she can silence him with soft, reassuring kisses. But instead of moving forward toward her eager lips, no longer resisting the magnetic force that seems to keep pulling them together, Levi has retreated further back into the apartment.

Mikasa paces across the living room, back and forth, before the wide picture window. Her thighs slide against one another, slick with her need. Mikasa touches herself between her legs and draws away damp fingers from the thick fabric of her jeans. In this moment she hates him for driving her to this, craving him the way she craves cigarettes: as something that feels like a biological necessity in its intensity and immediacy, an insatiable desire that tests her willpower to its breaking point each moment she is awake. 

She has been so good, she thinks: it has been six weeks since she last had a cigarette. But Mikasa has never intended to live as an ascetic or to suffer unnecessarily for her art; she cannot deny herself both cigarettes and Levi, and right now there is one she wants far more than the other. She will surrender to her urge, she decides, and savor him the way she would savor one last beloved smoke: slowly, breathing him deep into her lungs, into her cells, into her very being. Mikasa squares her shoulders as she approaches the bathroom, but hesitates when she gets to the door. She spends a few minutes outside the bathroom, listening to the sound of water hitting the tile, punctuated by Levi letting out a low groan of relief, presumably once he feels as though he is finally clean. Mikasa decides that now is the time to make her move.

She usually operates like this, assessing the situation, calculating her odds of success, then striking relentlessly, without turning back. She is tired of this back and forth, inching toward what she believes is their mutual goal, then retreating. Mikasa cannot understand what the point of all this pretense is. She wants him. She is sure he wants her as well. To her, the solution is simple: take what they both want.

As Mikasa reaches for the doorknob she finds that her hand is trembling. She turns the knob slowly, making sure the latch doesn’t catch, then steps into the steam-filled bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her hand slips a little and her eyes widen when she hears the latch click, seemingly loud as a gunshot in the small room. Sweat beads on her forehead, but she cannot tell if it is due to the heat or due to the fear that swirls in her stomach alongside her repeatedly thwarted arousal.

"Mikasa?" Levi calls. "Is that you?"

She holds her breath, trying not to make a sound, hoping that he doesn’t poke his head out from behind the shower curtain. After a few moments, once she is satisfied that he won’t catch her before she makes her move, she undoes her jeans, pushing them down slowly so the button doesn’t clatter against the tile. She pulls her t-shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor (unlike Levi’s clothes, which are folded neatly atop a wicker laundry hamper), and starts to work on the clasp of her bra before her fingers start to shake too much. She fumbles with the hook and eye closure for a few seconds but prevails, dropping the bra to the floor, then slipping off her underwear. Her heart starts to race and her breath speeds up in her chest as she approaches the shower, opens the curtain a fraction of an inch with one visibly shaking hand, and steps in.

Levi seems not to notice her at first; he has his head down, rinsing shampoo out of his hair. Mikasa takes a moment to admire the way his shoulders and chest taper into his slim waist, the way his hips flare out just a little to accommodate the muscular globes of his ass. She lets out a small involuntary gasp at the sight of him, his size belying incredible strength, and then she is wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his chest and pressing herself flush against his back. She inclines her head and fastens her lips to the side of his neck, alternating soft kisses with sharp little nips of her teeth.

With a sound that is halfway between a moan and a purr, Levi leans back into her embrace. (She cannot see his face, but he is grinning madly, relieved that he can count on her once again to forge ahead without him.) He arches his back, inviting her to explore lower. She does, rubbing her hand further down his segmented stomach until she starts to feel the rough prickle of hair against her fingertips.

"Mikasa!" he cries as her fingers graze his shaft. 

She lifts her lips to his ear, then lets out a breathy chuckle. “Is that ‘Mikasa, yes’ or ‘Mikasa, no’?”

"It’s ‘Mikasa, get the fuck off me so I can kiss you already.’" His low tone startles her for a moment and she instinctively lets go when he tells her to, mortified that she has misread the situation. He takes that moment to turn around and push her up against the tiled wall of the shower before he finishes his sentence. He punctuates his words with a deep kiss, sucking and biting at her lips as she does the same to him. Their breaths come in ragged gasps as they change tempo, long, slow kisses that wrench guttural moans from Levi’s throat and deep sighs from Mikasa’s. He tangles his fingers in her wet hair and drags his mouth down her neck to rest against her shoulder. He bites her there, gently pressing his teeth into her slick skin. Another bite, harder this time, and Mikasa cries out, wordlessly vocalizing her desire. 

Levi’s hands skim up from her waist to cup her breasts, pinching one nipple. She sighs and closes her eyes, so he does it again. “Would it kill the mood if I said they’re bigger than I was expecting?” he asks, leaning in to kiss her neck again.

He feels the reverberation of her voice through his lips as she laughs at him. “Shut up,” she says, and places the palm of her hand on top of his head, guiding him downward. 

"Gladly," he breathes against her right breast before pressing his lips to the soft, smooth skin there. He kisses a trail down to one nipple, dusky rose against her pale skin, and pulls the hard little nub between his lips, sucking until Mikasa lets out a small whimper with each exhalation. When her noises start to crescendo, he pulls his mouth away from her. She looks down at him, her dark eyes a storm of arousal and confusion and even a little anger. He sticks out his tongue at her, then flicks it against her other nipple.

She moans at the sensation, a bolt of pleasure that disappears as quickly as it strikes her, then runs her hands through his hair and presses his face roughly to her chest. Mikasa can feel him smiling against her skin before he takes her other nipple in his mouth. She closes her eyes and bites her lip as Levi swirls his tongue softly around the tip of her breast, teasing her. His free hand traces her waist, lingering for a moment to trace the rim of her navel and the curve of her hip before slipping between her legs.

Levi lifts his head to kiss her once more as he explores her, tracing her slick contours before one finger doubles back and lazily circles around her clit. “You’re so wet for me,” he purrs in her ear. Mikasa merely nods, her eyes still closed, concentrating on his touch against her flesh. He slides his fingers down, slipping them inside her until his index and middle fingers are knuckle-deep inside of her. She is soft and tight and wet around him as he fucks her with firm, short strokes of his fingers. She grips his shoulders for leverage, grinding her clit against the heel of his hand.

"Fuck, Levi," Mikasa pants in his ear, roughly kissing the side of his neck and nipping at his earlobe.

He adjusts his hand so he can rub her clit with his thumb as his fingers glide in and out of her. “You like that?”

"Yeah," she says with the same smirk she has given him hundreds of times before. "But I want more." He pauses for a moment, gazing at her reddened lips, then kisses her roughly and increases his speed. After a few moments, she pulls away from him so she can cry out against his lips. She wraps her arms around Levi, using him to hold herself up as her legs start to shake. Mikasa squeezes her eyes shut as her climax builds in her inner thighs, spreading into her belly and up her spine before it overtakes her and she is whimpering and gasping his name as she trembles and pulses around him.

She is clutching at him with whitened fingertips, breathing raggedly, when he pulls his glistening fingers out. Levi lifts his hand to his mouth, but before he is able to taste her, Mikasa grabs him by the wrist and wraps her lips around his fingers.

"Fuck, Mikasa," he breathes.

"You like  _that?_ " she asks, licking her lips. He nods, his eyes darkened with desire, so she kisses him deeply, making sure he can get just a hint of her on his tongue. Mikasa captures his lip between her teeth and tugs on it, grinding against him as she does so. Levi sucks in a shaky breath. "Your turn," she whispers, looking down at his hard cock pressing insistently against her belly, then back up into his eyes. She starts to sink to her knees. 

Levi stops her, pushing her back up against the wall. He presses his forehead to hers, looking deeply into her eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

"Seriously?" she asks with a nervous smile.

"Seriously. You can’t possibly think I’d be satisfied with just a taste of you."

Mikasa lets out a throaty chuckle. “Why didn’t we do this weeks ago?” Levi kisses her exposed throat, the hollow of her collarbone, between her breasts, while he tries to think of an answer. He suspected she would be like this, still impudent, still teasing even when she trembles, yielding beneath his touch. But the reality is so much better than anything he dreamed up on those sleepless nights, any image he had in his mind (which is quite a feat, considering just how many he has had) while stroking his cock in this very shower.

"I like that we waited," he finally answers. "Back then I just wanted to fuck you. Now I want to devour you." He looks up at her, his lips against her breastbone, then pinches both of her nipples, eliciting a sharp moan.

"Oh, I am gonna turn you  _out_ when I get my hands on you,” she challenges him. 

Levi gets on his knees, bites the fleshy part of Mikasa’s inner thigh. “I’ve already got one up on you.”

"What I lack in quantity, I make up for in quality," she tells him, grabbing his hair as he drops light kisses on her lower belly. 

He raises his eyebrows and looks up at her, resting his chin against her thigh. “Are you saying that wasn’t quality just now?” 

"Oh, it was. And I expect more of the same." 

He traces a finger down her slit, his touch barely whispering against her. “Expect better. I’m just getting started with you.” He taps her on the underside of one thigh, indicating for her to lift her leg. Levi positions himself so her knee is bent over his shoulder, her calf resting against his back, and kisses her between her spread legs. His mouth and tongue are soft against her, gently coaxing her toward another orgasm before he increases his speed and pressure and slips two fingers inside her. She comes hard, pressing his face against her body, her moans and gasps reverberating off the walls of the shower.

Once she has quieted, her fingers still tangled in his dark hair, he does it again just to show her that he can.

By the time he is finished, the shower water has cooled and Mikasa feels boneless, languid with pleasure. Levi turns off the shower and steps out, retrieving his towel from a nearby rack. Mikasa barely registers his departure until he returns, tossing a clean towel at her. She almost drops it, her mind and body unable to comprehend anything more complex than the feeling of Levi’s hands and mouth (oh god, that mouth) on her. 

"Round two?" he asks, extending his hand and helping her out of the shower. Her knees wobble as she tries to plant her feet on the floor.

"Definitely. Normally I’d say I’ll race you there, but I think I might fall over."

He chuckles. “I could carry you.”

"I think I’ll be fine," Mikasa replies, stepping forward and kissing him, then moving down to place her lips against his chin, his neck, his shoulders, his collarbone.

"Come on," Levi sighs, "or I’m going to end up fucking you on the bathroom floor."

She continues trailing kisses over his upper body, then drops her towel so she can reach down and grasp his cock in one hand, slowly stroking as she captures one nipple between her teeth. He gasps then, throwing back his head. “I’m okay with that,” she murmurs against his chest.

"I’m not. Bathroom floors are filthy," Levi says after a few moments, his breath hissing in and out of his mouth as Mikasa kisses his throat and runs her fingertips up and down his length, squeezing gently. She looks up and him and gives him a knowing smirk, then strokes him one last time before retrieving her towel and discarded clothes.

Back in his bedroom, Levi rifles around in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, searching for the condoms he knows are in there. He has managed to keep his apartment clutter-free, but his miscellaneous and infrequently used possessions tend to end up in that drawer; it is the only thing in his home he has been unable to keep orderly for more than a few weeks at a time. Mikasa flops down on his bed, dragging her towel through her hair, watching him dig through the drawer until he produces a small cardboard box.

"Already?" Mikasa asks, tossing the towel on the floor. She lounges back on the pillows and puts her hands behind her head, watching him inspect the box in his hand.

"I don’t want to fumble around for them when the time comes," he replies, too distracted to tell her to pick up her towel and put it away like an adult. The box feels light to him, so he shakes it. Nothing. He peers inside, hoping against hope that there is something, anything in there besides empty space. “No, no, no,” he groans.

She sits up, alarmed. “What?”

"I’m out of condoms. Fuck!" Levi scowls and throws the box hard against the nightstand. It bounces once and falls to the floor; he picks it up and places it in a nearby wastepaper bin.

"I don’t care," Mikasa shrugs.

Levi all but recoils. “You don’t make guys use condoms? Are you insane?”

"Of course I do," she snaps. "I just… I’d let you go without. Just this once."

"You shouldn’t. You don’t know where I’ve been."

"Where have you been, then?” she asks, raising herself up on one elbow.

"Less places than you’d think," he grumbles. "Either way, I’m not going to fuck you without a condom."

Mikasa shrugs. “We can do other things. Come here.” She raises her arms, reaching for him. Levi gets into bed next to her, sighing as his head hits the pillow. He feels her soft skin under his palm as he skims his hand down the curve of her hip. “On your back,” she tells him, sitting up. He complies and she gets on top of him, lacing her fingers into his and pushing his hands into the mattress. She kisses him then, her lips ghosting against his. Levi lifts his head up, trying to deepen the kiss, but Mikasa pulls away, denying him. She then rubs against him, making sure her wetness comes into contact with his rigid cock.

“ _Fuck_ , Mikasa, you’re killing me,” he moans.

"And I haven’t even gone down on you yet," she murmurs in his ear.

"We have to get condoms before I let you do that," Levi breathes. "Or I’m not going to be able to stop myself from fucking you."

Mikasa ceases the slow movement of her hips. “Should we stop?”

"Yeah," he replies, frowning. "Get dressed."

"Doing the right thing sucks," she grumbles, grabbing her jeans and t-shirt, leaving her bra and underwear on the floor. "Let’s make this fast. There are a lot of things I haven’t done to you yet."

Levi flashes her a sly grin as he pulls on a clean t-shirt and jeans. “I hope you don’t intend to sleep much tonight.”

"No," Mikasa replies, "I don’t. I actually took a nap this afternoon since I intended to keep you up all night. Literally and figuratively."

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so gross.” 

She walks up to him, throwing one arm around his neck and using her free hand to cup the conspicuous bulge in his pants. “But I’m right,” she says in a low voice, kissing him once, hard. She squeezes his cock, making him hiss out his breath through clenched teeth, then scampers off to the living room to retrieve her sneakers.

"She really is going to kill me," he says under his breath as he watches her leave.

"Come on, Levi!" Mikasa calls. "If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to put on my shoes on before we go."

"Don’t you dare!" he shouts, running after her. 

Mikasa taps her foot against the floor as they wait for the elevator, fidgeting with impatience and the desire to have her hands on him once more. When the elevator doors finally open, she pulls Levi inside, slamming him up against the wall of the car and fusing her mouth to his. He tangles his hand in her hair, yanking her head back, giving him the upper hand in the struggle between their mouths. When they reach the first floor they manage to startle an elderly couple who see them making out, biting at each other’s lips in the elevator well after the doors open. 

"Sorry," Mikasa says, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.  She looks over at Levi, who looks at the intruders with his usual cool gaze, utterly unfazed by the fact that they most definitely saw him snaking his hand up Mikasa’s shirt.

"Let’s go," he says, taking her hand and pulling her out of the elevator. He drags her out of the building, or at least he would be if she wasn’t matching his speed. Their pace increases to a swift walk, then a jog, then a full-on run, their hands still clasped as they race down the street, laughing. They throw themselves into the car and Levi peels out of his parking spot before Mikasa even has a chance to put on her seatbelt. He speeds down the street, barely pausing at stop signs and revving his engine at red lights, until they nearly careen into the parking lot of the drugstore.

"I’ve never seen you drive like that," Mikasa remarks, getting out of the car.

"I don’t think I’ve ever driven like that. Let’s try to act somewhat normal in public, okay?" Levi wraps one arm around her waist as they walk into the store.

"Better be quick. We have to be out in five minutes or less," she tells him.

"I was thinking two."

Mikasa smiles and puts one arm around his shoulders. “I like the way you think.” 

The store is uncomfortably bright, making Levi feel self-conscious about their damp, mussed hair, the careless way they have dressed. He tells himself no one is looking at them, that it’s probably a frequent occurrence for two bedraggled people with flushed cheeks and wild eyes to buy condoms at one in the morning. They walk across the store, scanning each aisle for the one thing they want, each hoping they don’t have to ask anyone for assistance. There is something strangely shameful to them about broadcasting the fact that they’re about to have sex, even though they both are so overjoyed they want to brag to passers-by.

"What euphemism are they using for condoms? Why doesn’t the sign just say ‘condoms’?" he mutters on their third lap of the store.

"I think it’s ‘family planning’ now," Mikasa says, pointing at an overhead sign and motioning for Levi to follow her into the aisle. "Although that doesn’t even make sense, if you think about it. It’s anti-family planning."

"Yeah, family planning wasn’t on the menu when I was thinking about what I wanted to do tonight."

"So what was your plan, then?"

"You know what, I hadn’t actually thought of anything. I was just going to see what happened."

She chuckles. “I guess I beat you to the punch. Should’ve thought ahead.”

"So you planned that stunt in the shower?"

"I wish. That was all improvisation," she admits, demurely biting her lower lip at him. There is a devilish glint in her dark eyes. 

"You’re good at it," he tells her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Thanks. Now pick a box of condoms so we can get the hell out of here." Levi scans the display before him, wondering when the hell rubbers got so damn complicated. As he tries to determine what the difference between ultra sensitive and ultra thin is supposed to be, he feels Mikasa stiffen next to him.

"Shit," she hisses. "I think Erwin’s here."

"Don’t screw with me," he replies, glaring at her.

"I’m serious. That was definitely Erwin." She ducks down and scurries out of the aisle, peeking out from behind an endcap display of cough syrup. 

Levi grabs a box at random and holds it behind his back, scanning around him to see if anyone is around. “Fuck,” he spits. 

"Would we get in trouble if he saw us?" Her voice wavers just a little bit.

He shrugs. “I don’t think so. He’ll just give us a lot of shit. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want him to know. At least not until I have my way with you first.” 

"Oh, so you think you’ll get your way tonight?" she asks, following him down to the far end of the store in the hopes of avoiding Erwin. 

"I got you to quit smoking," he points out.

She narrows her eyes at him. “I suddenly feel the urge to buy a pack of cigarettes just to spite you.”

"Are you really going to do that?"

Mikasa thinks for a moment, then frowns. “No,” she sighs, her shoulders slumping forward briefly.

"Didn’t think so," Levi replies with a satisfied smirk across his lips. Mikasa rolls her eyes at him.

They go through the self-checkout, keeping their heads down as they so they can plausibly deny that they didn’t see Erwin just in case he calls them out the next time he sees them. Once the box of condoms is secreted in a plastic bag emblazoned with the drug store’s logo, Levi grabs the bag in one fist and quickly walks toward the door, leaving Mikasa behind. She has to jog a bit to catch up with him. They both exhale with relief as the cool night air greets them, thankful to have avoided an awkward run-in.

It is at that moment that they see Erwin standing on the sidewalk outside the store, smoking a cigarette.

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” Levi groans under his breath.

"I thought I saw your car," Erwin says, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Good show tonight."

"Thanks," they mutter in identical flat, avoidant tones. They make eye contact for a split second, just long enough to recognize their synchronicity. It makes him want to kiss her all over again, Erwin be damned.

"So what are you kids up to?" Levi and Mikasa try to think of an excuse as they look at the pavement, the night sky, the front of the store, everywhere except Erwin’s piercing eyes. Levi’s brain shuffles through excuses, trying to find one that will fit: the bars are about to close, it’s too late for a movie…

"Just hanging out," Mikasa finally offers with a shrug, unable to think of anything better. After all, it is a technically true (if wildly inaccurate) description of the night’s events. "But I think I might call it a night soon.” 

Erwin chuckles. “Sure you will. I won’t keep you; just wanted to say hi. You two have fun. ‘Night, guys.” He starts to walk over to his car. “Hey, Levi,” he calls, pausing before he gets in.

"Yeah?"

"Take good care of her. That’s my star."

"I will," Levi replies, his tone so exasperated his words come out almost sing-song. Mikasa beams at the two men, no longer caring that Erwin will undoubtedly tease the both of them for weeks. For a brief moment, everything is right in her world: she has Erwin’s approval, but more importantly, she has Levi.

Levi, meanwhile, is waiting with fists clenched until Erwin’s car pulls out of the parking lot. When the car disappears from view, he gathers Mikasa in his arms and kisses her deeply.

"What was that for?" she asks when they finally part, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily.

"Just a bit of congratulations. You did good."

Mikasa looks down at her feet, then back up at Levi. “That means a lot to me,” she says softly. He opens his arms to her and she steps into his embrace, resting her chin against his shoulder. He is so solid and warm and real in her arms that she leans against him for longer than she initially intended. 

As they stand there, still wrapped in each other’s arms, Levi turns his head to speak into her ear. Once again, her heart starts to race at the tickle of his breath against her skin. She wonders if he can feel it against his chest. “Mostly I kissed you because I want to take you home and rip your clothes off,” he admits brusquely, running his fingers under her shirt until they reach the small of her back, then pushing her hips against his so she can feel exactly how badly he wants her.

"Race you to the car?" Before she finishes her sentence, they are both running across the parking lot at full speed, arms pumping in time with their steps. 

Again Levi slams on the accelerator in his haste to traverse the distance between the drugstore and his home. His driving seems reckless to the untrained eye, going well above the speed limit and changing lanes as soon as he comes up behind someone who is moving too slowly for his taste, but Mikasa knows better. Every movement he makes is deliberate, switching gears at precisely the right moment so the car seems to almost fly down the asphalt, streetlights blurring overhead. He drives a manual transmission, and his mastery over the confusion of gears and pedals is more of a turn-on than she would like to admit. Mikasa wonders what else he has in store for her tonight and cannot stop thinking about how he will feel atop her, inside of her. She starts to feel restless, needing to touch him once more. She reaches out, stroking his shoulder, but it’s just not enough.

"Drive slowly," Mikasa instructs him, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Why?" he asks. "And put that back on."

She sits up, leaning her left arm against the back of the driver’s seat and skimming her right hand up Levi’s leg and across his lap until her fingertips skate across the bulge in his pants, teasing him with feather-light touches. “I want to try something,” she whispers in his ear, then undoes his fly and reaches in to release his cock. She chuckles low in her throat as she runs her hand up and down his length. Her hand is soft and warm against him; her thumb rubs his tip in slow circles. His breath shudders in and out of his lungs while he tries to concentrate on the road, suddenly unable to remember his usual route home even though he has taken it hundreds of times.

When she shifts in her seat, kneeling down so she can take him in her mouth, he simply pulls the car over and leans his head back against the seat, yielding to the pressure of her lips, the wet flick of her tongue. She drags her mouth against him, pressing her lips firmly to his flesh and sucking him at an agonizingly slow pace. Mikasa tastes a drop of liquid salt as she runs her tongue over the head of his cock.

"Fuck," he pants, "you have to stop or I’m gonna come right here."

She lifts her head and says, “I don’t see a problem with that,” then grasps him at the base of his shaft and uses the flat of her tongue to lick the underside of his cock, tilting her face up so he can get a good look at her, his dazed look of pleasure mirrored on her features as she takes him in her mouth once more. 

"You might not, but I do. I want to come deep inside of you."

Mikasa stops her movements and stares up at him, mouth ajar. “Well, no one has said that to me before,” she says after considering his statement for a few moments. 

Levi smiles at her, then gingerly tucks his erection back into his jeans, zipping the fly and readjusting himself in his seat. “Come on. Let’s go home.” 

"Kiss me first," Mikasa tells him. He does so, pulling her up by her t-shirt and crushing her mouth to his.

He races back to his building, the needle on the speedometer pushing seventy as he races down small residential streets and takes shortcuts through parking lots, his tires screeching against the asphalt. They stand apart in the elevator in his building, too desirous of each other even to touch lest they start taking their clothes off before they even reach his apartment. When they get to his floor, Mikasa slips off her shoes as soon as she steps off the elevator, then tosses them onto the nearby rack as she enters the apartment, making a beeline for Levi’s bedroom. Levi follows her in, standing by the door and watching her as she pulls off her shirt, throwing it across the room, then shimmies out of her jeans. Mikasa practically dives onto the bed, throwing herself against the mattress so hard she bounces once before settling back against the pillows.

Levi tosses the plastic bag on the bed and discards his clothing, tossing them in the general direction of his laundry hamper in a concession to his obsessive cleanliness, but the five seconds it would take to put the clothes away properly is too much to spare. As he clambers into the bed, lying down next to her, Mikasa removes the box of condoms and sweeps the plastic bag to the floor with one hand, then messily tears open the box, discarding pieces of cardboard on Levi’s nightstand.

"You know there’s an opening for that thing, right?" he asks sarcastically.

"I’m being efficient," she grumbles as she tears off a square of plastic and discards the box next to the pieces she tore from it. He takes the wrapped condom from her hand and kisses her, repositioning himself atop her. Mikasa wraps her legs around him, lifting her hips to meet his. She reaches down to stroke his cock, which rests against her belly. Once he is sufficiently hard, straining against her hand, he breaks away from her, sitting up on his knees as he tears open the packet with his slim fingers and rolls the latex down his length in a smooth, efficient motion.

Levi looms over her, resting his weight on his hands, rubbing his cock against her wetness. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

"Uh-huh," she whines, angling her hips to try to capture him inside of her.

"What’s the magic word?" he teases.

“ _Now_.”

Levi lets out a low, quiet laugh as he angles himself against her. He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head around her clit in slow circles, making her whimper and arch against him.

"I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone whine and moan at the same time," he notes, pressing harder against her, slowing his motions to a torturous crawl.

"I guess that means you don’t torment women on a regular basis," Mikasa answers in a strained voice.

"No. Just you." And he would do it again in a heartbeat.

She lets out a snort of laughter. “Thanks, sadist.”

"I’m being just as much of a masochist right now." He adjusts himself, pressing his cock against her entrance. "But I don’t think I can take it any longer." Levi pushes his hips forward, sinking inside her, inch by agonizing inch. Mikasa closes her eyes, reveling in the sensation of fullness, of completion. He rests inside of her for a moment, sighing contentedly as he feels her gripping him, cradling him inside her.

"Better?" she asks.

He leans down and grazes his lips against hers. “Much.” Mikasa gasps as he withdraws at the same sedate pace. He shifts position, pushing Mikasa’s knees to her chest, pressing his hands against the backs of her thighs so he can go deeper. Levi fucks her slowly, looking down at her placid smiling face as he sends gentle waves of pleasure through her core, rippling out through her limbs, slowly building in intensity. She comes quietly this way, her mouth open in a silent cry.

Before she is finished, still biting her lip and grasping at the bedsheets as he feels her inner muscles fluttering around his cock, Levi slams his hips into her. Mikasa makes a wordless exclamation, her eyes flying open and meeting his intense gaze. He bites at her lower lip, driving roughly into her at a steady pace, making her gasp every time his hips smack against hers. He continues until he feels his climax building behind his balls and in his inner thighs, at which point he slows down, thrusting into her once again with soft, languid strokes. Mikasa makes a disappointed noise at the reduction of sensation, but at this pace she is more cognizant of how he feels inside her, gently stretching her as he slides in, then pulling out, resting the head of his cock against her entrance for a split second, then entering her again. She can feel him in every nerve ending, every fiber of her body, teasing her, tormenting her with a quietly unfurling ecstasy. Levi evidently agrees, judging by the serene smile on his face.

"Can I get on top?" she asks once she can no longer take his leisurely strokes. He nods excitedly, then withdraws and sits next to where she was lying, his back resting against the headboard. She climbs onto his lap, gripping the base of his cock as she lowers herself onto him. Levi sighs as she slides down his length. She kisses his forehead, tasting the salt of his sweat, then shifts her hips over him, raising herself up and then grinding down against him. His hands reach out to grip her ass as she rides him, guiding her up and down his shaft, digging his fingers into her skin, building in speed and intensity.

"I don’t… I don’t think I’m going to last much longer like this," he pants. "Let’s switch back." Mikasa complies, pulling away from him, lying on her back, and lifting her hips, feeling strangely disappointed in those brief moments where he is no longer inside of her. He covers her with his body, wrapping his arms around her as he thrusts deeply into her again and again. Her throaty moans spur him on so he fucks her harder, not stopping until she is throwing her head back against the pillows and crying out with each movement of his pistoning hips.

Levi moves faster, his motions becoming jerky when the rushing wave in his groin and his limbs and his brain and his heart engulfs him and he is gasping, his cock spurting thick jets of come as he crushes himself against her one last time. She feels him pulsing inside of her, which pushes her over the edge once more and she is coming with him, his pleasure fueling hers and vice versa.

Mikasa watches him, resisting the urge to close her eyes and enjoy her orgasm alone. She wants to see what he looks like. Levi is not Levi when he comes, or at least the man who has reduced her to tears so many times is gone. There is no precision, no calculation in the way he furrows his brow, the way his eyes squeeze shut, the cool sweat that drips from his brow. When his face slackens in utter bliss it is so raw and so honest that, for a brief moment, she feels so moved her eyes burn with unshed tears.

Instead of following the well of emotion that seems to have sprung up in her chest, she wraps her arms and legs around him, holding him tightly to her as his body jerks a few more times, grunting and moaning and cursing as she wrenches the last of his orgasm out of him. When he is finished, he rests his head on her breast, their skin sticky with perspiration. Once he catches his breath again he looks up at her, eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue and lingering desire and something else, something deeper.

He wants to say something, wants to remark on the fact that he feels like she has drained his soul from his body and captured it for herself, but all that comes out is a breathy, triumphant snicker. With the last bit of strength left in his weary body, he hugs her tightly to him and presses kisses to her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her cheekbones, her lips.

"I suddenly understand why guys roll over and fall asleep after sex," she says, yawning beneath his lips.

"You’ve never felt like that before?" he asks.

"Not before tonight, no."

"Then you haven’t been fucked properly." Even though he lets out a lascivious laugh as he says that word and Mikasa joins him, mutually gloating about the experience they have just shared,  _fuck_  seems too harsh for what has happened tonight. It can’t just be fucking if the thought of leaving her, of no longer being physically connected to her seems like the most abhorrent thing he has ever heard.

But, to his immense disappointment, the last lingering threads of his orgasm fall away and his brain whirs to life again, telling him that he needs to dispose of the condom. He pulls out of her, then gets out of bed, his body resisting him the entire way, craving the close proximity of Mikasa’s body to his. He walks over to a small trash can that he keeps by his nightstand, slides the condom off, knotting the open end and tossing it in.

“ _God_ , I want a cigarette right now,” she complains as she watches him (or, more accurately, watches his ass as he moves), balling her fists and pounding them against the mattress. Mikasa gets up and digs through her purse, retrieving her vaporizer pen as Levi practically collapses into his bed. She walks over on shaky legs and crawls in next to him, resting her head on his chest, listening to the steadfast best of his heart as she inhales and exhales from the pen. “So was it worth the wait?” she asks him after a few minutes.

"Definitely," comes his immediate reply.

Mikasa shifts against him, resting her head on the pillow next to his. He stares at her, but now the steely gray of his eyes seems lighter, softer, like the fur of a rabbit, like the sky after a storm. “I don’t think I would’ve complained so much if I’d known you could do all that to me.”

"So you would’ve run ten miles without bitching if I went down on you first?" he asks, arching one eyebrow.

She thinks for a moment. “Twenty, without a single word.”

"Shit, I should’ve led with that, then." He laughs from deep in his belly.

Mikasa shoots him a wry smile. “Yeah, really. You’re the worst teacher, Levi.”

"You know damn well I’m not." He actually sounds somewhat hurt by her facetious remark.

"I know," she agrees, brushing away a strand of dark hair that clings to his still-damp forehead. "You’re the best." She kisses him then, gently, her lips soft against his. He responds in kind, cupping her flushed face with his hands as his mouth traces the fullness of her lips. When they finally pull away they wear matching grins, and even Levi is blushing a little.

Mikasa rearranges herself next to him, twining her legs between his, throwing a protective arm across his ribcage. He pulls a blanket over them, settling against her. They lay together silently for a while, Mikasa tracing abstract patterns on Levi’s stomach with the tip of her index finger.

"This is nice," he murmurs, his voice thick with fatigue.

"Yeah," she yawns. She leans over to place the vaporizer pen on the nightstand, then lies back down.

"I meant you not talking," he jokes, curling an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

Mikasa lets out a sleepy chuckle, her body quaking against his. “Fuck you, Levi.”

"In the morning," he replies with a lazy grin, reaching over and turning out the light. "You’re so impatient."

***

Mikasa wakes as the first rays of dawn start to lighten the sky, bathing Levi’s room in a cool blue light. He sleeps next to her, his mouth slightly open, his breaths deep and heavy and slow. It is alarming to her how innocent he looks without the constant deep furrow in his brow; in repose, he looks years younger. Mikasa traces one finger down the side of his face, temple to cheekbone to jaw to chin, noticing for the first time how long his eyelashes are as they rest against the dark circles beneath his eyes. Levi makes a low satisfied noise in his throat as she touches his face, then smiles and turns to her in his sleep, throwing one arm over her waist. She cuddles up to him once more, presses a soft kiss to his nose, and drifts back into a deep, sated slumber.

A few hours later, Levi wakes up alone. His head feels logy and he is briefly disoriented, not sure if the events of the previous night actually happened or if they were just a very realistic dream. For a moment he is convinced he has actually lost his mind from wanting Mikasa, but then he sees her clothes still discarded on his bedroom floor, the cartoon cat on her shirt grinning up at him from the carpet. How strange it is, Levi thinks, to feel so happy from seeing such a ridiculous image. He gets up and retrieves a pair of flannel boxers from a drawer, slips them on, and cleans up the room, picking up Mikasa’s clothes, the discarded drugstore bag, and the scraps of cardboard that litter his nightstand. He leaves the ripped-open box of condoms where it is, figuring he will need to reach for it again sooner rather than later.

"Good morning, sunshine," Mikasa drawls at him as he pads into the kitchen. She is sitting on the counter in one of his undershirts, the thin white fabric stretched to near-sheerness over her breasts, and a pair of his boxers. In one hand she holds a half-eaten wedge of pomegranate. Five other segments are scattered next to her, atop a cutting board.

"What time is it?" he asks, yawning and arching his back, feeling her gaze on his bare torso as his muscles flex and stretch.

"Nine-thirty."

"Shit," he grunts, disappointed in himself for sleeping so late. Then again, he feels as though he should be entitled to a little leeway. "When did we go to bed? Two? Three?"

"Something like that. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the clock."

"Nah, too busy paying attention to my–"

"I know what you’re going to say," she warns him with a smirk. "Don’t."

Levi smiles at her, then shakes his head. “I just can’t believe I slept for so long. You really did a number on me.”

"Wait, how long do you usually sleep if seven hours is ‘so long’?" Mikasa asks, a quizzical look on her face.

"Half that on a good night?" he estimates.

She gapes at him for a moment before she can think of a response. “That explains so much about you.”

Levi chuckles. “It does, doesn’t it?” Mikasa nods vigorously. “So what are you doing in here, anyway?”

"I was going to cook breakfast, but you caught me before I could do anything besides cut up some fruit." She takes a bite of the slice of pomegranate she’s holding, a trickle of juice dripping out of the corner of her mouth.  Mikasa wipes it away with the heel of her hand, drawing his attention to her crimson-stained lower lip, then offers him the fruit. "Want some?" she asks.

Wordlessly, he steps forward, standing between her legs. She wraps them around him, crossing her ankles against the small of his back, and holds the piece of pomegranate to his lips. Levi opens his mouth, his teeth scraping arils onto his tongue, feeling each piece burst as he chews. Mikasa flashes him an innocent smile before she pushes her hand forward, smashing the slice of pomegranate against his face. Levi’s eyes widen in surprise as he feels it being crushed against his jaw and cheeks, its cool sweet juice dripping down his face. She giggles as she pulls the fruit away and discards it on the cutting board.

Levi looks up at her, his mouth stained red, and chuckles. “I guess I deserve that.”

"Not really," Mikasa replies. "I just wanted to see what it’d be like when I did this." She leans down and kisses him, savoring the tartness on his lips.

When they finally pull apart, breathing heavily, Levi remarks, “You know, I’ve been wondering the same thing for a while now.” She smiles and embraces him, resting her forearms over his shoulders, her forehead to his, before kissing him again. “Are you doing anything today?” he asks after Mikasa pulls away, a matching vermillion smear across her lips.

She cocks one eyebrow. “Are you kicking me out?”

"No," Levi replies, placing his hands on her back beneath the thin cotton of her shirt ‒ his shirt, really, but after today he’ll never be able to wear one of these undershirts again without imagining her in it ‒ and running them upward, alternating light, tickling strokes of his fingers with the sting of his nails.

"Then I’m staying here," she says, shivering beneath his touch.

He smiles. “Good.” At that, Mikasa hops down from the counter and brushes her lips against his, pulling him close to her. Levi presses her up against the counter, pushing his hips against hers, pressing his erect cock against her bare thigh.

"Back to your room?" she asks as Levi’s mouth grazes down the curve of her neck.

"Mm-hmm," he murmurs against her skin.

"What should we do with the rest of the pomegranate?" Mikasa pulls a few arils from the closest wedge of fruit and feeds them to him, sticking her scarlet-stained fingers into his mouth. Levi takes the fruit from her, wrapping his lips around her fingers, gently sucking at her sweet skin.

"Let’s bring it with us," Levi replies once he is finished eating. "I have some ideas." 

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it for this story! I have some ideas for a multichapter fic that exists in the same AU (it takes place 3-4 years after TTOP/ATOP) as well as a deleted scene from TTOP, but I have a few other projects in the works that will take precedence. Watch this space!


End file.
